“It’s Marth,” Seren warned. “The one who shot down our ship. He’s attacking your tribe.”
Kiris’s face was pale as she looked at the distant fire.
“Then he will rue that he crossed the Ghost Talon tribe,” Koranth said.
“We can help,” Omax said. “We have fought him before.”
Koranth climbed onto his clawfoot with a grimace. “You cannot keep up with us, outsiders. This is not your fight. The Ghost Talons stand and fall on their own.”
He kicked his mount into stride and loped off across the plains, three of his hunters following in formation behind him. The other two remained behind with nervous expressions, watching as their brethren departed.
“We should go, Maern,” one of the halflings said, his words translated by Tristam’s bracelet. “Our families are down there.”
“We were told to remain,” the other said, though his reply held no conviction. His eyes were on the fire as well, and they were filled with fear. Seren felt as angry and helpless as they did. She wanted to help, or at least convince them to go to their tribe, but what could she say? And then she remembered.
“Kapen hara,” she said to the hunters. “Family before all else.”
They both turned to her, eyes wide, and then looked at each other. Maern bowed his head shamefully. Pian looked back at her with a steady, building resolve. He clapped his comrade on the shoulder and ran to his steed. Maern paused to offer a mumbled thanks and hopped on his steed as well. Together, the two rode off across the plains to defend their village.
Eraina, Omax, Kiris, and Seren stood in the now-abandoned camp, watching as the hunters galloped off across the plains. None said a word for a long moment. They were free now. They could easily escape to Karia Naille, assuming Marth had not found it. Tristam might be finished with the repairs. If Gerith had arrived, they might already be preparing to take off.
“Do what you must,” Eraina said, hefting her spear as she stared at the distant fire. “I plan to fight. Keep up with me if you can.”
The paladin charged off across the plains, not waiting for the others. Omax fell into step behind her. Seren stopped only long enough to look back at Kiris, still sitting beside the fire. If she left the wizard behind, she left behind the first real chance to understand what Tristam and the others had been seeking, and perhaps let an enemy escape to threaten them another day. But as she watched the silhouettes of her friends and the halfling hunters charging to an uncertain fate, she remembered the night that Jamus Roland died. If Tristam and Omax had not stood beside her, she might have died as well. Could she let the Ghost Talons face Marth alone? Could she abandon Dalan to him?
There was really no choice at all.
CHAPTER 22
Tristam peered up over the side of the ship’s railing, removing his spectacles with an exhausted grin. “I think I have it, Aeven,” Tristam said. “Try it now.”
The dryad’s eyes remained closed. Her hands were still clasped in the ball of seething blue fire. Slowly, she extended her fingers. The fire spilled out to each side, extending in two snaking tendrils. They extended around the sides of the ship and met at the newly repaired keel strut beneath. The flame wavered for several seconds, then resolved itself into a steadily burning ring.
Aeven slowly opened her translucent green eyes. She gazed into the fire in wonder. Her childlike face broke into a pleased smile. “Yes, my friend,” she whispered to the elemental. “You can stay for a while longer. The tinker has fixed it so we can remain together.” She dropped lightly from the upper arm of the ship and kissed Tristam lightly on the lips. “The ship says thank you.”
Tristam blinked in surprise. Aeven was already gone, having flitted away to sit on the rail near her figurehead. The young artificer could not help but smile. He put his spectacles back on, dropped down from the rope ladder, and stood back to admire his work. Karia Naille had been hoisted on a hastily constructed scaffolding. The ship was not as pretty as she once was. Chunks of the hull were missing and the keel arm was obviously an improvised replacement, but it would do. She was alive again.
“Excellent work, Xain,” Zed Arthen said, limping up beside Tristam. The inquisitive had fashioned a crutch out of the halfling lumber and still favored his left leg.
“I couldn’t have done it if Aeven hadn’t held the elemental here,” Tristam said with a sigh. “And if Pherris wasn’t such a skilled pilot, the damage would have been a lot worse. We still need to get her to a proper shipwright. She might not even hold together that long.”
“I’m not a man who commonly distributes praise, Xain,” Zed said, giving Tristam a pointed look. “Best learn to recognize it, or I won’t bother next time. I’ve walked away from more than one airship crash in my time. This the first time I’ve seen the ship get back up. Ash himself couldn’t have done a finer job.” Zed looked furtively around the canyon. “Especially under the circumstances.”
A dozen halfling laborers sat in a circle around a small campfire, laughing and chatting as they prepared their evening meal. The trio of threehorns that had hoisted the airship onto its scaffolding browsed nearby, searching the canyon for sparse foliage.
“How many times is it now, Zed?” Tristam asked quietly.
“Three times,” Zed said. “Three times I’ve caught those halflings trying to sabotage the repairs. They don’t know that I know, but I’m sure they’re wondering why the scaffolding didn’t fall down when it was supposed to.”
“Why are they doing it?” Tristam asked. “Do you think they’re working for Marth?”
“Doubtful,” Zed said. “If that were the case they would probably just kill us, or sabotage the ship so it crashed after takeoff and kill us.” Zed looked worried. “Are you sure they didn’t do that?”
“No,” Tristam said confidently. “The ship is fine. Aeven would know if it had been harmed.”
Zed nodded. “Then they’re just trying to delay us,” the inquisitive said. “They want to keep us here as long as possible.”
“Why?” Tristam asked.
“Good question,” Zed said. “Toughest part of being an inquisitive is recognizing when not to obsess over the wrong questions. I’m not as interested in learning what their game is as I am in removing us from it.”
Zed continued staring at the halflings for a long moment, searching for any clue as to their motives. He gave Tristam a questioning look when he realized the artificer was studying him in turn.
“What?” he said.
“Why didn’t you want me to tell Dalan that I recognized Moon the first time I saw her?” Tristam asked.
“It would have made things prematurely complicated,” Zed answered, looking away again. “Dalan didn’t see Moon until she attacked us over the plains. Now think about what he’s done since then. Why do you think he’s spent all his time away from here in Rossa’s camp, while you fix the ship? Now that he knows that you know Marth is connected to Ashrem, he’s been avoiding you.”
“Why?” Tristam asked.
Zed looked at Tristam again, his gray eyes narrowing. “Listen, Tristam. Your employment with Dalan is based upon several important assumptions. There are things that you’re better off not knowing, and things that he’s better off not knowing that you know. Let’s leave it at that.”
“For a person dedicated to solving mysteries, you seem pretty intent on concealing the truth, Arthen,” Tristam said. “What are you afraid I’ll find out?”
“I could answer that question, but I think you’ll regret it,” Zed said.
“Tell me,” Tristam said. “I need to know what’s going on here. I need to know how Marth is connected to Ashrem.”
“I can’t really answer that,” Zed said. “But I know how he’s connected to Dalan.”
“Dalan?” Tristam asked, surprised.